


on the way home

by flrthans



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Character Study, Color Blindness, Coming of Age, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Han Jisung | Han-centric, JYP Entertainment Does Not Exist, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, One Shot, PAY ATTENTION TO THE DATES, Panic Attacks, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26144188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flrthans/pseuds/flrthans
Summary: Felix is up next, a few spots after Hyunjin, and Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about his dancing prowess. From the tiny snippets he’d heard, Felix’s dancing seemed to be a pretty controversial topic amongst the dance majors. (Some practically worshipped him, while others seemed bitter about Felix getting passing grades, let alone good ones.)The stage lights shift from the dull yellow lighting of the previous stage into a beautiful, serene blue, a shade that reminds Jisung of daydreams and skies. Once he’s reached stage center, Felix looks up, towards the audience, and goes still for a second.Then, the music starts, and Jisung’s jaw drops as he begins to move.(Or, Han Jisung is a colorblind prodigy guitarist who loses his love for music after his father’s death.When free-spirited dancer Lee Felix crashes into his life, he learns to love music — and life — once again.)
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han & Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Felix, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 86
Collections: Jilix, fav





	on the way home

**Author's Note:**

> did you know that the school year in south korea starts in march and ends in february? this takes place there, so yeah, do take note of that as you read! 
> 
> also psa i know this is not how colorblind glasses work but for the sake of the story let’s pretend they do ,, thank you <33

**_September 8, 2020. 4:37AM._ **

It’s almost five in the morning, and Jisung hasn’t written a single word.

“Fuck!” In a fit of frustration, he balls up the piece of paper in front of him and throws it against the wall, where it bounces off to join the pile on the floor. The sun is starting to rise, his vision is starting to blur, the city is starting to wake up; yet somehow, Jisung still doesn’t have a single clue about where to start.

God. He needs coffee.

Ten minutes later, Jisung’s trudging down the side of the road, the cool autumn breeze brushing past his skin. A few cars and people are already up and about. The scene is almost like something out of a movie — unnaturally calm, especially for the usually bright and bustling city. Perhaps, if Jisung wasn’t under a deadline, he’d stop to appreciate this rare moment of calm, to truly take in the surreal world that is early-morning Seoul.

As it is, he barges into the 24-hour convenience store a short walk away from his building with no grace to be seen, looking dead as the fly that had landed in Changbin’s mug last night.

The cashier glances over at Jisung in what seems like mild concern as she rings up the three ready-to-go cups of iced Americano he’d brought to the counter, but Jisung really couldn’t care less. He just needs the caffeine, dignity be damned. If he doesn’t finish this song soon, the album would have to be delayed, and no one wants that to happen. 

When Jisung steps out again, furiously sipping at his coffee, his mind starts to clear. _The sky is a strangely intense pop of blue today_ , he notes internally, then laughs at himself. _Well, as intense as it can be when all the colors you can see are blues and yellows right now._

Opening twitter on his phone, Jisung starts to scroll down his timeline, liking various tweets and retweeting a few, then decides to search up his name out of curiosity — the fans make pretty funny tweets sometimes, and there is no better way to start the day than to freak them out by replying to some of their tweets, after all. (Watching them react is always amusing.)

Suddenly, something catches his eye.

  
  


**CHAN RELEASE WE GO** @hanluvr · 4h

_??? anyone know who lee felix is ??? j.one is following him (@leepilikseu) but i’ve literally never heard of him-_

  
  


Jisung’s breath catches in his throat, and he stops scrolling, blood rushing past his ears as he stares wide-eyed at the tweet. Static replaces his senses as he hones in to those two words, those two words, those two simple words that held so much meaning, and yet, at the very same time, none at all.

Lee Felix.

He hasn’t heard that name in a long time.

  
  
  


**_October 23, 2012. 5:09PM._ **

The lights are blinding.

Surrounded by the icy cold of the stage, heart hammering in his chest, twelve-year-old Han Jisung shakily brings his fingers to press on the guitar strings and strums once.

Everything is wobbly. Muted. He can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything.

He tries again.

The lights are blinding.

Suddenly, the young boy is aware of the whispers from the audience, the worried atmosphere that’s suddenly fallen upon the stage.

Everything is wobbly. Muted. He can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything.

He tries again.

The lights are blinding.

The static in his ears hasn’t stopped. It holds him in an ironlike grip, blankets him in fear, in dread.

Everything is wobbly. Muted. He can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything.

He tries again.

And again.

And again and again and again and again and again and again and —

And stops.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 7:28AM._ **

Chalk it up to his impatience, but Jisung’s never been one to plan things. Which is how he finds himself outside the train platform at half past seven in the morning, waiting for the high-speed train that’ll take him back to Busan. Back to Yonghwa Performing Arts High School. 

It should be fine; out of kindness and consideration and a desire to not give the leader of 3RACHA a heart attack at the ripe age of twenty-two, he’d even texted Chan and Changbin to inform them of his excursion. His hyungs might not be too happy that he left without permission — again — but what can they do about it? Jisung is a perfectly capable nineteen-year-old, thank you. He’s an _adult_. He can take care of himself.

Well. Mostly.

Seoul’s cityscape rushes by as the train speeds away from it, giving way to flowering trees and bushes, and quaint little houses that lie on the outskirts of the metropolitan city. Once they get to Busan, of course, all that will change. Busan isn’t one of the biggest cities in South Korea for nothing, after all, even if the area Jisung had lived in had been slightly quieter. Truth be told, he actually prefers the hustle and bustle of the city, the constant energy that never lets up. It’s fun. Even if it’s tiring at times.

Why had Jisung decided to return to Busan all of a sudden? Because of a fan’s tweet? Memories? Sentimentality? Or is it just some twisted sense of nostalgia for the boy who’d changed his life, then proceeded to vanish from it as soon as he’d appeared?

Jisung shakes the thoughts from his head. _It’s too early for this._

Hmm. Maybe he should stop at a flower shop, get some forget-me-nots before he visits. 

They might not be Jisung’s favorite, but they’d always been his.

  
  
  


**_April 7, 2018. 8:45AM._ **

“ — Wait, hold on a second, let me get this straight.” Jisung leans back in his chair. “You want me to come along to a double date with you on Saturday, _even though we’re not dating,_ just so you don’t have to third-wheel Hyunjin and this new guy who has a crush on him because you’re gonna introduce them to each other.”

Seungmin shrugs. Right at that moment, the cool morning breeze wafts in through the classroom window, reaching out to ruffle his hair a little and unsettle the brown locks. “Yeah, basically.”

“Dude. What the fuck.”

“You wouldn’t want to be a third wheel either!”

“Then just don’t go! Are you a fucking idiot?”

“God, could you- could you be any louder?” At this point, their raised voices have started to draw attention from the other students, and the tips of Seungmin’s ears are starting to become a darker yellow than usual from self-consciousness. (“Turning pink”, according to what people usually said. Not that Jisung would know.)

Jisung sighs. “You owe me for this. Big time.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Seungmin immediately brightens and breaks into a smile. “Nice!”

“The things I do for you, really … ”

Seungmin just gives him a grin and sticks out his tongue. At this, Jisung can’t help but laugh, because Kim Seungmin never, ever acts cute.

He gets a solid punch to his shoulder. 

Their first-period teacher (Music Composition, a class all the Yonghwa Performing Arts High School vocal majors had to attend, to Jisung’s chagrin) comes in and tells them to work on their compositions. According to her, the best ones would be selected to be performed in the monthly showcase.

Class 3-A cheers and pulls out their notebooks. Most of them are music majors, and composing is fun when there’s no guidelines.

The blank pages just stare at Jisung. He sits there, pen in hand as his classmates write frantically, humming melodies to themselves, and wishes for the class to be over.

  
  
  


**_April 10, 2018. 11:40AM._ **

Saturday arrives bright and sunny, the sky a clear blue with no clouds to be seen. It’s pretty. After all, blue _is_ Jisung’s favorite color. The park is filled with children running around on the playsets, giggling and squealing as their mothers occasionally break away from their gossiping on the side-benches to yell at them about staying safe. But of course, as children are prone to do, they gleefully ignore their mothers’ warnings, chasing each other around the slides and and the sandboxes and the metal contraptions. 

There’s probably some sort of cheerful nostalgia people could find in this situation, borne of the innocence and sheer joy of childhood. Jisung doesn’t think he’s ever known that. Or maybe he had, once upon a time, and it’s since been buried in the depths of his memories, beneath piles and piles of —

“Look, he’s over there!” Seungmin tugs at his arm, dragging him towards a small clearing in the middle of the park, meant to be a picnic space. Their friend Hyunjin has already arrived, dressed in his usual casual-chic style and lying on the grass, seemingly bored. It’s been twenty minutes past the meeting time already — Hyunjin’s date is late, which is ironic, considering his date was the one who had a crush on him in the first place.

No one can deny that Hwang Hyunjin is a charmer. Attractive, smart, and charismatic, the boy is easily one of the most sought-after students in their school. Its ‘prince’, even, and that’s a title only bestowed to the pinnacle of popularity. Before him, it had been a boy named Lee Minho. Like basically everyone else at their school, Jisung would be lying if he said he hadn’t fostered a small celebrity crush on him when he’d first seen him. It’s gone now, but it _had_ been a thing. Long ago.

The current ‘prince’, however, is one of Jisung’s best friends, and has been for almost their entire time in school. Jisung is not going to hold back from teasing him no matter how ‘princely’ he is.

“So, even princes can get stood up, huh?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at Jisung good-naturedly. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Boo-hoo, I guess you’ll just have to resort to dating someone else out of the thousands of kids lining up to — ”

Here, Seungmin frowns at Jisung. “Don’t talk about Hyunjin’s admirers like that!”

“What?” Jisung protests. “It’s true.”

“Just them live,” Seungmin says in exasperation. “Anyways, you wouldn’t know how beautiful loving someone is anyways, you little colorblind Grinch pissbaby.”

“And _you_ do?”

“Guys!” Hyunjin shushes them quickly and points at someone running towards them. “I think he’s just arrived.”

Sure enough, the boy stops right in front of them, out of breath and gasping slightly. _He’s cute,_ notes Jisung, taking in the silvery-blond hair, button nose and wide yellow eyes (green, probably? as far as he knew, human eyes couldn’t be red) before internally smacking himself. _Stop. The dude literally has a crush on Hyunjin._

Standing up beside Jisung, Hyunjin narrows his eyes slightly at the boy for a second, then snaps his fingers in realization. “You’re one of the practical dance majors, aren’t you? Lee Felix, right?”

The boy’s cheeks darken, and he nods. “Yeah.”

Hyunjin nods decisively. “I’ve seen you dance before! You’re not bad. Kinda weird style, but it’s just the way I like it.”

With a bashful laugh, the boy — _Felix_ — bows. “Thank you! I’m so glad you like it. Some people don’t. It _is_ pretty unorthodox … ”

Felix’s name is pretty, but it sounds a little strange, a little unfamiliar, as Jisung rolls the word around in his head, trying to fit it into his limited understanding of English. Pi-lik-seu?

With a snort that cuts into Jisung’s train of thought, Hyunjin shakes his head. “Just ignore them, dude. You’re good.”

Felix sends Hyunjin a grateful smile.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 9:56AM._ **

People are giving Jisung weird stares.

Not that he can blame them, really. It’s not every day that you can see someone lugging around a guitar case and strolling outside the Busan KTX station, much less a boy dressed in all-black, half his face covered. With his getup, Jisung probably looks like a criminal. Maybe they think the guitar case is holding stolen goods. Or drugs. Could be both. 

Doesn’t matter, anyhow. One glance, one look, and that’s all it takes for them to move on with their lives. Funny, isn’t it, how quickly people move on? How quickly people forget? Busan Station has barely changed in the two years since he’d last been, yet Jisung can’t help but feel a strange unfamiliarity with his surroundings, like he’s seeing it in a completely new light. And considering everything that’s happened since then, perhaps he is.

Still, he finds his way to the nearby bus stop easily enough. It takes a while of scrounging around on the transportation app to find the right one, but soon enough, he’s on his way back to his high school.

Back to where everything had all started.

  
  
  


**_April 21, 2018. 12:34PM._ **

The topic comes up easily in conversation, just slips in without any of them paying much attention to it, kind of like how Felix had effortlessly been integrated into their small friend group. A few of the dance majors are going to perform in the end-of-the-month showcase, which is a pretty normal occurrence. And this time, both Hyunjin and Felix are invited.

They’re ecstatic. Of course they would be; what kind of person in their right mind _wouldn’t_? Half an hour of freaking out later, they move on to song choices and discussions of genre, officially leaving Seungmin and Jisung in the dust.

Somehow, even when Jisung doesn’t understand half of what the duo is talking about, Felix still shines. Shines, not in the way stage lights blind you with unrelenting heat, but in his boundless energy, bright and warm like the sun, as the dancers chatter on. It’s how happy he is, Jisung reasons. Happiness radiating off of people is always infectious.

(He ignores the twinge of guilt in his heart. Hyunjin and Felix aren’t dating, not by a long shot — as far as he knows, they’ve never even gone on a second date together — but Felix still has a crush on Hyunjin.

Yeah, exactly. Felix still has a crush on Hyunjin. Even if the fact is a tiny bit disappointing to Jisung. He doesn’t even know why, it just _is_.

Just a tiny bit.)

“Do you guys want to come along? We’re performing, so they gave us some VIP tickets to invite our friends.” Hyunjin’s question is directed at both of the singers, who exchange a glance. Seungmin speaks up for both of them.

“Yeah, of course.”

  
  
  


**_April 30, 2018. 5:03PM._ **

By the time Jisung and Seungmin settle into their seats, the auditorium’s already packed to the brim. Internally, Jisung thanks Hyunjin and Felix for their tickets, because if they hadn’t, finding good seats would’ve been a huge hassle, especially since most of the school seems to be there. As usual, some scouts have been invited to the showcase, looking for idol trainees or future stars or even just a few potential music producer interns. 

Of course, Hyunjin’s already a trainee (at SM Entertainment too, no less), but that doesn’t mean he can’t take part. Felix, however … Jisung doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boy dance before in his entire life.

The first few acts are great, as expected — someone in their class had been selected to perform their self-composed song, like their teacher had promised, and it’s not bad. (Jisung could’ve done better. It’s not even a matter of pride; he knows it, Seungmin knows it, everyone else in their class knows it. Then again, he hadn’t even handed in his composition, so who’s to blame? Heck, he doesn’t even _want_ to compose anymore.) Afterwards, they get someone singing an acoustic arrangement of a popular idol group’s song, accompanied by the guitar. 

One by one, the acts come onto the stage, and as the showcase drags on, Jisung feels his eyelids drooping. The performances are all top-notch, but there’s really nothing that captures his attention enough to bring him out of his sleep-deprived haze. 

He should stop sleeping at two in the morning.

Soon enough, it’s time for the dance department to have their turn. As beautiful as the routines are, Jisung can’t find the heart to get into them. A shift, a turn, a jump. And the music plays, behind them, fluctuating in all the correct places, dropping the beat exactly where you’d expect. Changing to triple time, then back to quadruple, then building tension by adding a new percussion loop and placing an atonal rise over it.

Textbook stuff, textbook stuff, textbook stuff that pretends not to be, textbook stuff that goes against the rules in all the ways that adheres to them just as tightly, textbook stuff textbook stuff _textbook stuff textbook stuff_

that he 

absolutely

hates.

  
  
  


**_April 30, 2018. 5:06PM._ **

“ … Jisung?”

A tap on his shoulder shakes him out of his stupor, and Jisung blinks, suddenly finding himself out of breath.

_Was I hyperventilating?_

Seungmin gazes at him, eyes full of worry. “Jisung, are you okay? Do you- do you need to leave?”

Taking a few deep breaths, Jisung manages to regain his composure. “Y-yes — ” it comes out as a stutter, and he corrects himself — “Yeah. 

I’m fine.”

_I can’t wait for this to be over._

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 10:31AM._ **

Stepping off the bus feels somewhat like stepping into a dream.

In part, it’s because of the early autumn atmosphere, the previously clear sky beginning to fill up with clouds. When Jisung had checked the weather report last night, it’d claimed that rain would come either today or tomorrow. While it still seems a tad too sunny for that, it’s not impossible for such a thing to happen.

Jisung grimaces. _Definitely not impossible,_ he thinks, recalling that one time the sky had been a beautiful bright blue in the morning. In his naïveté, he’d neglected to bring an umbrella to classes that day even though the weather report had clearly stated that it would rain, and had subsequently gotten stranded right outside the university’s Music department lecture hall because it had been raining too hard for him to go back without getting completely drenched. 

So no, not fun. Especially when you’re forced to call Changbin to pick you up, and have to endure half an hour of incessant taunts.

Never again.

Fumbling in the inner pockets of his jacket, Jisung picks out his Enchroma glasses and puts them on. A splash of color bursts across his vision, dotting the flowers growing from the bushes on the sidewalk in pinks and reds and purples and the leaves in various shades of green. (The inventor of colorblind glasses must’ve been an angel.)

The sweet shop next to the school is still up and running, Jisung notices with a smile. They’d made the best mochi back in his school days, and seeing as only a few years had passed, it wouldn’t hurt to try. It’s gotten a few upgrades — better decoration, repainted walls, a few more fairy lights outside — but mostly, it seems the same.

Maybe he’ll upload a picture or two to social media, too, for the fans. Give the shop the credit it deserves, and hopefully boost sales as well.

Jisung enters, and he’s immediately greeted by a familiar face at the counter. “Jaebum hyung!”

The older man jumps in surprise and looks up, breaking into a wide smile. “Jisung-ah! What brings you here all of a sudden? Aren’t you a famous singer now?” he teases. “Shouldn’t you be surrounded by fans screaming down the streets or something?”

A slight heat rises to Jisung’s cheeks. “Hyung!”

“Just joking, just joking,” Jaebum reassures him with a laugh. “Man, you’re just as cute as ever. Anything you want?”

Jisung nods. “Yeah, actually. A box of ice cream mochi- actually wait, no, make that two.”

“So, just the usual, hmm? Mango, strawberry, matcha, and chocolate?”

“Yeah. I’m kinda surprised you remember.”

Jaebum sends him a wink. “Now, how could I forget one-half of my favorite customers?” With that, he hands him the box, along with a cooler bag. “Even with the bag, it’ll start melting in a few hours, so you better hurry along.”

Grinning, Jisung gives him a salute, deliberately choosing to ignore how his smile had faltered when the shop owner had said ‘one-half’.

  
  
  


**_April 30, 2018. 5:11PM._ **

Felix is up next.

He’s up next, a few spots after Hyunjin, and Jisung would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about his dancing prowess. From the tiny snippets he’d heard, Felix’s dancing seemed to be a pretty controversial topic amongst the dance majors. Some practically worshipped him, while others seemed bitter about Felix getting passing grades, let alone good ones.

The stage lights shift from the dull yellow lighting of the previous stage (probably red or something, and Jisung simply couldn’t see it) into a beautiful, serene blue, a shade that reminds Jisung of daydreams and skies, and Felix makes his way onto the stage, dressed in a simple white sleeveless muscle tee, fitted white leggings, with a tunic wrapped around his waist. 

Once he’s reached stage center, Felix looks up, towards the audience, and stills for a second. Then the music starts, and Jisung’s jaw drops as he starts to move.

What genre of dance is Felix even doing? Jisung has no idea, no idea at all. It’s a kind of dance that refuses to adhere to any preset guidelines, like ‘hip hop’ or ‘contemporary’ or anything in between. He doesn’t dance according to the music, doesn’t turn or jump where the music leads him; no, _he_ leads the music where he wants, and it’s so beautifully chaotic, so beautifully unorthodox, so beautifully _mesmerizing_ that Jisung isn’t sure if the scene he’s watching before him is even real.

He moves, light as a fairy, powerful as a dragon, fluid as water. Jisung is no dancer, but even he recognizes the skill that it takes to create this absolute anarchy of a dance routine, and the skill it takes to execute it.

Hell, even the music is strange. None of it follows any of the patterns he’s used to, but it somehow still sounds nice. It changes where you’d never expect, twists and turns just like the dancer before him, takes leaps into whole other genres, from jazz to house to classical. It’s an amateurish concept, mixing and mashing every genre of music you come across, yet sounds like it’s been done by a professional, in an eccentric fashion that doesn’t seem too tryhard. 

No, it feels _right_ , and it tugs at his heart in a way he’s never felt before. Like he’s been a frog at the bottom of the well all this time, and he’s just discovered that the world is a million times bigger than what he knows.

And maybe, in the deep, dark depths of his mind, Jisung’s coming to the realization that he might finally be starting to understand.

  
  
  


**_May 2, 2018. 8:53PM._ **

Only two days into May, Jisung receives his first individual text from Felix. At the time, it had seemed insignificant, just one message amongst the many he gets every day, no thanks to the group chat Hyunjin had created for the four of them. 

Little does Jisung know, even years later, he’ll look back on this day with every single detail ingrained in his mind — the setting sun streaking murky grays and dull yellows across the sky barely an hour ago, eventually settling into a dark blue. (Maybe, because of this, Jisung could never conceive why people enjoyed the sunset so much. Maybe the sunset’s appeal is in its colors.) And when he reaches his district, dusk is over, night has fallen; the only things illuminating the small road are his phone screen and the streetlights. 

Going home is always a slightly eerie occasion, especially when living in a less urban area. At the same time, however, it’s tinged with the wistful scent of nostalgia, the tranquility of dim streets and lit-up windows; particularly loud chatter pierces through the quiet night air every so often, only contributing to the peaceful nature of it all.

When Jisung turns the corner, a yawn starts to find its way up his throat, and Jisung does exactly that — right as he becomes mildly aware that his phone is buzzing in his back phone. Blearily, he rubs his eyes as he stares down at the screen, and his eyes widen in surprise at the sender’s name.

  
  


**felix .｡.:*☆**

hey!! jisung (*^▽^*)

**you**

??

what

why r u texting me all of a sudden

is there smth wrong

i don’t think you’ve ever texted me individually lol

**felix .｡.:*☆**

okay,,, so i understand that this might be a LITTLE unexpected

but i have a choreography to hand in soon

and well 

i can’t find any music that fits ㅠㅠ

**you**

okay,, so?? what does this have to do with

yknow,, me specifically

**felix .｡.:*☆**

soooooooo

weren’t u ,, like

idk

a child prodigy guitarist/composer or smth

i was kinda wondering if

yknow

u can help me? (*☻-☻*)

_[Read 8:57PM]_

  
  


Stopping dead in his tracks, Jisung freezes, his breathing starting to become labored, heartbeat quickening. Composing? He doesn’t do that anymore. He _can’t_.

But … would it help, knowing that there would be no rules to be limited by? Would it help, knowing that it would be in service of art? Would it help, knowing that a friend genuinely needed his help?

  
  


**you**

…

i

i don’t know what to say

**felix .｡.:*☆**

PLEASE m(_ _)m

uhh

what if i treat u to mochi ice cream after (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

those r ur favs right

**you**

i mean,, ur right they ARE my fav 

but

who told u that wtf

i’m p sure i didn’t at least

**felix .｡.:*☆**

i asked seungmin !! ヾ(๑╹◡╹)ﾉ"

**you**

oh what

wait

you did??

**felix .｡.:*☆**

yeah

besides, i love them too!!

sorry if it’s weird or anything,,,

i just really need ur help

**you**

ig it’s fine …

just this once tho

also

i’m like

super rusty because i haven’t actually done it for

,, five years?? i think

don’t have overly high expectations 

**felix .｡.:*☆**

it’s totally fine!! i believe in u 

ᕦ(=^▽^)ᕤ

how about tomorrow then?

**you**

oh

well 

uh,, thanks

i guess

and ,, yeah

tomorrow should be fine

_[Read 8:57PM]_

  
  


When he exits out of the messaging app, a sense of apprehension creeps upon Jisung. As he stares at the brightly lit screen, a beacon of light against the backdrop of night, Jisung can’t help but think he’s gotten himself into way more trouble than it’s worth.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 11:18AM._ **

Yonghwa looks exactly the same as when they’d left it two years ago.

To think so little time has passed, when it feels like it’s been a lifetime since he’d last stood here … 

Jisung surveys the campus — the simple metal-bar gates that had been revamped in his second year, the basketball field in front of the gym that had also served as a courtyard, the colorful wall murals that he’d never truly been able to see back in high school. His Enchroma glasses had been a gift from his mother for 3RACHA’s first 500K subscribers on YouTube, so he hadn’t had an opportunity to see his high school in its full-color glory yet.

Until now, that is.

What was that saying, again? ‘Rose-tinted lenses’? People tend to look back on their childhoods with a distorted view, Jisung knows that much; positive memories seem to make up the majority of what some can recall. Jisung doesn’t think he’s completely exempt from this, but he doesn’t think he’s all that affected by it, either. He’s always been able to remember the good and the bad in similar detail.

Well, or so he thinks. There’s nobody here to refute this claim anyways.

Visitors aren’t allowed in unless they have a permit, or in cases of emergencies. That’s one of the school rules Jisung remembers from his time here. Alumni aren’t exempt, either, so he can’t just use his status as a graduate to barge in, even if he isn’t going to disturb any classes.

He’s fine with that, though. Right now, this is enough.

Staring at the place where he’d spent the last three years of his adolescence feels odd. It somehow seems like Jisung should feel more nostalgia upon gazing at these concrete walls, but the memories are far too fresh to come off as any sort of reminder of times gone by.

Mostly, it just serves as a reminder of _him_.

It’s funny how, even two years later, Jisung can still envision his face, his mannerisms, _everything_ about him so perfectly in his mind.

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 3:57PM._ **

“Are you done yet?” the boy peeks around the classroom door, silvery locks (some of which he deftly tucks behind his ear) falling in his bright eyes and framing his cheeks. He looks on in barely-contained enthusiasm, and Jisung feels himself starting to flush from the self-consciousness of having someone watch him pack.

After what seems like decades, he finally manages to stuff the last folder inside his schoolbag, then heaves it over his shoulder, turning around to face an expectant Lee Felix. “ _Jesus_ , you’re impatient.”

For a second, he freezes, uncertain if Felix would take offense to what he’d said, but to his relief, he only laughs ( _it’s a clear sound,_ Jisung’s mind notes involuntarily, _sweet and melodic. A nice contrast to the mellower, deep tone of his voice._ ) and claps him on his back. “Gotta make the most of the time we have!”

They’re sitting in one of the school’s empty dance practice rooms ten minutes later, going over Felix’s choreography notes. There’s quite a few empty spaces in the routine, Jisung notes in minor confusion, but he decides not to question it.

“So … where should we start?”

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 4:04PM._ **

“Hmm, I’d say switching up the tempo here would be unnecessary. Could be better to do that in the middle of this bar over here.”

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 4:10PM._ **

“Look! Jisung, look! I think I did a thing!”

“O-oh. Show me.”

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 4:39PM._ **

“Hey, uh … I tried something, not sure if you’d like it or not, but. Yeah. Here.”

A pause, a scramble, then: “Wait, this is actually so good! Dude!”

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 4:56PM._ **

“Ooh, do you think it’ll work if I just completely change the percussion set for this bit? Just completely change all the components?”

“Hmm … I mean, why not? Let’s try it.”

  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 5:08PM._ **

Felix flops backwards, right onto the polished-wood floor, the notes from their composing session fluttering down and landing around him, surrounding his head in a paper halo. “Oh my god, I can't believe we’re done. We wrote a whole track!”

Staring down at the suddenly-foreign pencil in his hands, Jisung can’t quite believe it either. How long has it been since he had last touched music sheets? Since he had last talked about music so openly? Since he had last enjoyed composing? Hell, why had he even agreed to all this — the promise of ice-cream mochi? No. It goes deeper than that, Jisung knows, even if he would never say it out loud. 

“Hey, wanna grab some mochi now? I promised to treat you, so … ”

“Oh.” 

With a blink, Jisung stares back down at the pencil, then unceremoniously tosses it onto the floor. “Yeah, sure. It’s what I did this for, after all,” he says in what he hopes is a light tone.

It doesn’t feel like much of a joke to him. More like a lie.

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 5:21PM._ **

The sweet shop’s front door swings open with a bang, announcing the duo’s presence to everyone currently inside. Jisung doesn’t even try to hide his wince at the loud noise.

It’s not even surprising to him anymore that Felix just strides up to the counter with no visible inhibitions whatsoever and orders the ice cream mochi, then proceeds to engage the cashier in a discussion about mochi flavors, somehow. Though Jisung thinks he’s got a basic grasp of Felix’s impulsive, cheerful nature by now, the fact that he has extensive knowledge on _mochi_ , of all things, takes him by surprise.

Jisung isn’t really one to start randomly chatting with strangers — honestly, he’d say he’s pretty shy — so he just stands besides Felix awkwardly, taking in the interior of the shop. It’s decorated beautifully, all plastic flowers and fairy lights and bright colors (from the shades, Jisung guessed they were probably supposed to be pastel, though he can’t tell for sure. It’s just a shame that pastel is one of the duller palettes for him). He casts a glance towards the cashier, whose name tag reads ‘Im Jaebum’, and then back at Felix. 

Making a quick decision, Jisung taps Felix on the shoulder. “I’ll get us some seats in the corner. When you’re done, you can come over.”

Even as he sits down, scrolling through his phone, Jisung can still hear the bright laughter coming from the counter. One or two tidbits float over his head occasionally. They’ve now moved on to baking, notes Jisung with mild amusement as he half-heartedly retweets another viral post, bored. 

His fingers freeze over the screen as he catches another part of the conversation. 

“Y’know, kid, you’ve got some real weird eyes for someone who looks plenty Korean.”

A laugh. “I know, right? My parents didn’t expect it. I’m half-Australian, actually,” comes the explanation. “So I guess my mom’s genes passed on to me. My brother Jeongin got his eyes from Dad, so they’re brown.”

Fabric shifts, and Jisung watches the Jaebum’s reflection lean over the counter, curious, in his now-dark screen. “I’ve never seen green eyes in real life. Gotta say, kid, they look a lot more vivid than in the movies.”

“Eh. I won’t really say so. I guess they’re a bit lighter than usual, but … ”

Jisung’s mind drifts again. Felix’s eyes? What do they look like to everyone else? What does green even _look_ like? Internally, he curses his colorblindness for not letting him know. It doesn’t really bother him at all most of the time, but at times like these, he wonders what a normal person sees. Is green a warm color? Cool? Bright? Do people like the color green? Do they hate it?

_And maybe he would never know._

The thought pains him. Just a little bit.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 12:08PM._ **

Earphones, Jisung determines, are the greatest human invention in all of mankind.

They let you listen to songs in public without anyone judging you, they let you hide your “niche” music taste (whatever the fuck _that_ means, seriously, music is music, there’s literally no niches about it), and most importantly, _they let you pass construction sites while blocking out the sounds_.

Okay. That might only be applicable to expensive professional earphones with noise canceling functions. But Jisung’s point stands.

Kinda sad, really, that part of the park’s being renovated. Jisung doesn’t know what it’ll get turned into, but he’s betting on real estate. A shopping mall under it, maybe. Everything is about real estate nowadays. Chan got a fuck ton of money investing in that around a year ago — which, of course, they immediately used to further their joint careers.

And by sheer fortune, it had _worked_.

Ah, the wonders of capitalism.

Past the construction site, Jisung finally finds a pathway to the middle of the park, where the clearing is. Over the last two years, it’s been upgraded slightly: new benches here and there, more trees, a fountain erected in the middle.

Do not ask Jisung if he’d tried tossing a coin in there to make a wish and whether he had been caught by the patrol and reprimanded for pollution, then stuck his whole arm into the water to fish out the coin (almost falling into it in the process), because he certainly had not. No way. Nope. Things like that are for _children_ , and Jisung is an adult.

Okay, perhaps he had done it. Slightly. Only slightly. 

The mortification fades when Jisung realizes there’s no one else around (except the patrollers), bringing him a sigh of relief. Seventeen-year-old him wouldn’t have gotten caught. No, he had been far too sneaky for that.

Probably would’ve gotten Hyunjin caught in his place. That guy could get himself out of any trouble with a calculated smile and that head-tilting move only heartthrobs can pull off, anyways.

It’s almost funny to think that nowadays, he utilizes these exact talents on a stage to capture the hearts of millions of fans. Every once in a while, Jisung likes meeting with Hyunjin to catch up and just _talk_. It’s nice, having another friend in the showbiz, even though one is an idol who’s part of a 21-member group (or 18-member, really, Jisung has no idea how their system works), working his ass off for every performance, and the other is an indie artist, part of a 3-member band.

Currently, an indie artist who’s also coincidentally procrastinating his ass off because he has no inspiration. 

Jisung lies down in the grass to stare at the sky. The clouds are already starting to blanket the sky, shielding his eyes from the sun, dotting the clear blue with larger and larger blocks of fluffy gray. Rain’s coming soon, just like how the forecast had predicted. No matter — he’d have to go inside soon, anyways, for lunch and all.

The peace here feels good, though. He’s going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts. In a way, it reminds him of Saturday afternoons just hanging out with his three friends, not a concern in the world; after all, Saturday afternoons meant that no worries were allowed at all. Homework, tests, exams — those could wait.

Something rumbles in the sky. An omen of the incoming storm.

The corners of Jisung’s mouth quirk up at the notion, and he relaxes, back against the grass, basking in the electric air, temperature seemingly having dropped ten degrees all of a sudden.

He can’t deny that it _is_ pretty ironic.

  
  
  


**_May 3, 2018. 5:12PM._ **

“What do you mean, you don’t have a way to get home?” Jisung looks at Felix, aghast, as he raises a hand in surrender, an apologetic smile breaking across his face. 

The light blond tries to speak through his mouthful of strawberry flavored ice-cream mochi, but stops to swallow when he realizes Jisung can’t understand a single word of what he’s saying. There’s a moment of awkward silence as Felix tries to gulp down his food as quickly as possible before he starts to explain. “I don’t know how to get home from here,” he says sheepishly. “Dad usually picks me up by car, and we moved apartments recently, so I never got to figure out how … ”

Jisung pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation and tries to ignore the fondness that washes over him. (He’s supposed to be _annoyed_ , damn it). “Okay. Fine. Where do you live?”

And that’s how they discover that they live in the same apartment building.

The younger boy (by _one day_ , too, Jisung had been so surprised when Felix first revealed it) can’t stop chatting his face off about what a coincidence that is, and how weird it is that they’ve never bumped into each other before. But that’s fine. Jisung likes listening to Felix’s voice. It’s tinged with a curious foreign accent, deep and rich and cushioned with velvet, and it reminds Jisung of a pine wood forest.

_Funny,_ Jisung can’t help thinking, a smile starting to grow on his face as he listens to the other talking. _A boy made of opposites._

He doesn’t dwell on that thought for too long, however, because soon enough, Felix pulls him back into conversation (and real life) with a question of whether he likes one of the Korean History teachers. The response is a dutiful and genuinely disgusted ‘no’, and for the next forty minutes, they manage to bond over their mutual dislike of rote memorization as Jisung drives his motorized bicycle home, interrupted only by the occasional bird cry. 

At some point, Felix starts to sing — a popular idol group’s song that’s doing well on the charts lately. It’s everything Jisung should hate: trendy, uniform, static. Not once does it even attempt to try something different. Felix isn’t even that great of a singer, either.

Somehow, Jisung finds that he doesn’t mind anyways. He even finds himself humming along, the melody having been ingrained in his mind from its seemingly inescapable presence on the radio. He doesn’t whisper the words, he _doesn’t_ , no matter what Felix claims a while later on their fifth rendition of the song.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered. Your cheeks are so pink, bro, I want to squish them so bad. Has anyone ever told you how fluffy you are?”

“Shut up.”

“Ooh, someone’s a tsundere.”

“Shut up!”

“Pay attention to the road — WATCH OUT!”

The sudden spike in volume startles Jisung, causing him to brake sharply, and the change in velocity sends them both tumbling into the bushes next to the road. For a second, the two just stare at each other in shock, disheveled and breathless, before bursting into laughter. Still wheezing, Jisung stands up and offers a hand for Felix, who accepts it and pulls himself up, then leans in to brush some stray leaves off Jisung’s hair.

_Close, too close,_ Jisung panics internally, keeping his eyes on the ground when the boy reaches up, the soft padding of his fingers grazing over Jisung’s face ever so slightly as he moves up to dislodge the leaves. They flutter to the ground unceremoniously, and it’s only then that Jisung even dares to look up. 

Air stills around them.

“You’ve got … you’ve got something on your face,” Jisung says, his voice breaking through the quiet. “H-here.”

Just like how it had been done for him, he reciprocates Felix’s actions by brushing dirt from his cheek. The scene almost feels intimate. 

Until Jisung frowns, noticing something strange as he holds up his fingers to his eyes, covered in a powdery substance. He squints a little, trying to discern what it is. “Are you wearing makeup?”

Now that he thinks about it, bruises do seem to appear on Felix all the time (he’d mostly chalked it up to dance, though). Could he have bruised his face? If yes, then how?

The boy laughs nervously and pushes Jisung’s hand away from his face. “No, of course not.” It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying, but Jisung decides to drop the subject anyways, choosing to turn his attention back on the road instead as he restarts the engine of the bike, motioning for Felix to hop on.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

  
  
  


**_May 10, 2018. 12:09PM._ **

“This is BULLSHIT!” Jisung kicks furiously at the wall, pupils blown wide with barely contained anger. “What the FUCK!”

Hyunjin looks bored and fascinated at the same time, somehow, watching the situation unfold while he texts someone else on his phone. Next to him, Seungmin seems more worried, sneaking glances up every now and then from his music sheets.

“Hey, Sung,” he says gingerly. “You wanna take a breather?”

Jisung just glares at the wall.

Seungmin sighs. “Look, Sung, it’s our final year assignment. We can’t do anything about it.”

It’s the truth, Jisung _knows_ it, but can’t bring himself to look at Seungmin. If he does, he’ll cry, and no one wants that.

Seungmin stands up, papers settling on the floor with a _phwish_ as he wraps his arms around his best friend in a delicate embrace. Like he’s scared of breaking Jisung. Like Jisung is made of glass. 

Normally, even the mere idea of Jisung being fragile would earn the one who came up with such a ridiculous notion a sucker punch right in the face. This time, however, it doesn’t. Mostly because Jisung knows he’s being an asshole. But how can he help it? He’d sworn to never touch the guitar or perform onstage ever again in his life, not after his father had passed away; he’d promised, he’d promised, he’d _promised_ , and now the school wants him to- the school wants him to-

“Hey, hey,” Seungmin says, alarm imbued in his tone as he moves away from Jisung, only to hesitantly grab his hand and squeeze it. It helps bring Jisung out of his spiral, thankfully, and he narrowly catches himself from slipping into a panic attack. “Hey, don’t push yourself. The guitar’s always here, if you want to work on the project.”

Jisung sends Seungmin a weak smile.

The door opens and Felix enters in his usual brash manner. He blinks, surprised, at everything before him. “What’d I miss?”

Against all odds, Jisung and Seungmin both burst out laughing, unable to contain themselves.

  
  
  


**_May 11, 2018. 7:24AM._ **

Felix meets him in the hallway the next morning before school. 

“Jisung,” he says, taking on a more serious demeanor than Jisung’s ever seen him in, “if you ever want to talk … well, I’m here.” He shrugs, seemingly self-conscious. “I know what it’s like. To have things change so suddenly. Your dad … ” It appears to take a few seconds for Felix to think about his next works before he continues. 

“Your dad … I’m sorry what happened to him.”

This doesn’t exactly catch Jisung off-guard, but he’s surprised nonetheless. “How do you know about that?”

“Well — ” Felix winces. “Rumors get around school. Plus, it was a pretty long time ago. You know you have a Wikipedia page, right?” he adds unhelpfully.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, uh, yeah, what I mean is, I understand…? It’s. Not easy to explain,” Felix says, stumbling over his own words. “I won’t judge, I promise, if you want you can practice guitar with me as an audience? I’m so sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, Jisung laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “No problem. And if it counts — ” he musters up as much strength as he can and sends Felix a smile, ignoring how doubtful he truly is about the words coming out of his mouth. “I don’t mind.”

  
  
  


**_May 31, 2018. 3:51PM._ **

Absolutely nothing is working out for him.

Frustration pricks at Jisung’s eyes as he pushes down the urge to just snap his pencil in half. He’s been working on this piece for days, this piece that they’re supposed to perform, in public, at the showcase, as part of their final grade, and absolutely _nothing_ is working out for him. None of it satisfies him — no matter what tempo, what key, what meter he sets the song to be, nothing appeals to him at all.

_If you actually tried this with your guitar …_

“No,” Jisung says to himself, stern and resolute, firm as rock. “No, I’m not touching that.”

_You compose so much better on it though. Also, you’ll have to touch your guitar eventually. You know you’re gonna have to perform on it, right?_

“Shut up.”

The voice in Jisung’s head doesn’t respond. He takes this as a win.

Even though he knows, in the depths of his consciousness, that he won’t accomplish anything of substance, Jisung continues slaving away at the music sheets for the next few hours anyways.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 1:12PM._ **

By the time Jisung reaches the café, the sky is already a stormy grey, the very beginnings of a rainstorm starting to fall in a slight drizzle. Light flashes in the distance, followed by booming thunder, and Jisung runs inside as quickly as he can, not wanting to get caught in the rain, even if he does have an umbrella.

In contrast to the sweet shop, the café Jisung had used to frequent is now completely different. The posters that had always been artlessly stuck to the wall behind the counter have been turned into a blackboard, the menu written on it in neat script; the white-bricked walls have been covered in concrete, strips of mint blue painted across it; the wooden counter is now white marble, so polished that it gleams. 

A swell of disappointment rushes up beneath Jisung’s skin. The old café had probably been closed down a short while after he’d graduated, this new one taking its place. _It doesn’t matter, though,_ Jisung tells himself, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, _because all I’m here for is lunch._

Yeah. That’s all that matters.

Quickly assessing the menu, Jisung heads up to the counter and thrusts a wad of bills onto the surface, only registering that the barista doesn’t know his usual order when she stares at him in confusion.

Heat rises up his cheeks as Jisung clears his throat to speak, more than a little embarrassed. “A large iced Americano and a blueberry cheesecake, thank you.”

He brings his food over to a seat near the window. At this point, the weather has worsened and become a full-on rainstorm, raindrops hammering against the clear glass panes in a never-ending stream of pitter-pattering, almost therapeutic in its unceasing rhythm. Maybe Jisung could incorporate that into a song in their next album? Rain would be a nice theme.

As he stuffs his cheeks with cheesecake (not as tasty as the old café, but still good; he is a firm believer that cheesecake is impossible to fuck up, after all), Jisung turns on his phone to greet the three hundred notifications that he’s apparently received over the past few hours. Scrolling through the 3RACHA group chat and occasionally replying to a few of the more important messages, Jisung doesn’t pay much attention to what he’s doing until he spots the ninety-three texts he’s gotten from Seungmin.

Jisung’s mind flashes back to when he’d informed 3RACHA about him leaving for Busan, eyes widening in horror when he realizes.

He’d forgotten to tell Seungmin.

_Oh god, he’s going to be furious._

  
  
  


**_June 29, 2018. 4:02PM._ **

“Guys!” A deep voice yells in Jisung’s ear, and he almost falls over. Felix grins at him, then at Seungmin and Hyunjin. “Do you want to come over? We can celebrate not being destroyed by midterms.”

“Sure,” says Seungmin, returning Felix’s grin, “why not?”

Felix calls his mother over from the other end of the parking lot. She drives them to the Lee family’s (and Jisung’s) apartment building before leaving for something else that Felix refuses to elaborate on, to the other three’s confusion. They don’t probe too much, but Jisung can’t shake the weird buzzing in his head telling him to ask more about it. 

It doesn’t take too long to boot up Just Dance, and the four spend the rest of their time dancing to every song they know. Felix is the most enthusiastic, singing in a delightfully off-key manner but somehow managing to still (mostly) stay on beat. Soon, the rest of them join in, and Jisung sneaks a sideways glance at Felix, whose smile is so bright, it’s blinding.

Hyunjin destroys all of them. Figures — he _is_ an idol trainee. Having bent down, hands on his knees to catch his breath after their tenth match, Jisung looks at the scoreboard and drily notes that he’s in third place, after Seungmin. Though it does take a while to discern who’s who, since the avatars are all the same and he can’t remember who the default usernames belong to, he manages to figure it out in the end by comparing the difference in the yellow shades. (Apparently they’re supposed to be yellow and green. Not that he can tell.) 

For a second, Jisung’s gratified by the fact that he hadn’t done too badly for someone untrained in dance, but then he realizes who the person coming last is and starts to laugh uncontrollably.

“How did you do so _badly_? Aren’t you a dancer, Lix?”

The boy flushes a darker yellow and looks away. “My controller glitched!”

“Oh, really? Care to switch?” teases Hyunjin, offering his own to him. Seungmin joins in too, quipping that he should join the dance course instead.

And as Felix jokingly shoves at the singer, Jisung can’t help but notice how the light dances in his eyes. 

  
  
  


**_July 16, 2018. 9:39AM._ **

Felix has been hanging out with Jisung a lot lately. Maybe it’s due to the simple fact that SM Entertainment is about to debut a new boy group, so Hyunjin’s almost never available these days, too preoccupied with training.

All the idol trainees are desperately fighting for a spot in the final lineup right now, he tells them, dark circles prominent under his eyes even beneath layers of crudely caked-on makeup. Sometimes, he arrives at school with less than three hours of sleep and proceeds to fall asleep in class, shaking himself awake every five minutes or so, then leaves right after class dismissal for Seoul, not a second gone to waste. Not even the teachers are willing to call him out on it; everyone knows how stressed Hyunjin is right now, and really, everyone wants Yonghwa’s prince to debut. 

And besides, midterms are over, so they’re just covering second-semester topics early right now anyways.

There are quite a few trainees in the school, of course; given that this is a performing arts high school, it’s just to be expected. _Big Three_ trainees (from YG, SM and BigHit) are a rarity, however, and you can bet the school treasures every single one of those.

On the other hand, Seungmin’s been grinding just as hard, if not harder, for a singing competition that’s going to be held next month. Being slightly more well-off than many of the vocal course students, he has access to private vocal lessons where he’s spent most of his time this month, leaving the rest of their (admittedly small) friend group alone even though summer holidays are about to begin, which would usually mean having fun with everyone non-stop at fairs, arcades, and everything in between.

It’s not that bad, really, Jisung thinks to himself as Felix takes advantage of their close residences to drag him to the beach after they’ve both had dinner. (His mother had only agreed when Felix had pointed out that the beach is quite literally next to their apartment building.) To his puzzlement, the other boy is holding a large rectangular carrier that’s almost two-thirds of his height, but he doesn’t question it until Felix stops them and sits down a few meters from the shoreline where they’re completely alone, gingerly placing the carrier down and unzipping it.

Jisung’s blood runs cold. Okay, he takes back what he’d said. It _is_ that bad.

Because, right in front of him, is an acoustic guitar. And as far as Jisung knows, Felix has never learnt how to play it in his life, which can only mean one thing.

“I’ve heard from Seungmin that you’ve been having trouble with your final grade project,” Felix says softly as Jisung’s heart pounds in his ears. “My promise stands. Do you want to try?”

_No,_ Jisung wants to scream. But his hands are already traitorously running over the polished wood, cautious yet eager to play after being deprived of the instrument for so long, especially when it’s a friend requesting it.

Maybe one time won’t hurt.

Taking a deep breath, Jisung picks it up, ignoring how Felix inhales sharply at the movement, and gives one of the strings an experimental pluck. A single note, beautiful and clear, reverberates through the cool night air before being carried away by the sea breeze.

The melody comes to him far too easily, and soon enough, Jisung starts to up the ante, playing with the rhythm and structure just a little bit.

And then, just as he’s about to strum the next chord, it happens.

_“Wrong,” comes an icy voice, a wave of disapproval washing over Jisung as he stares at the music sheets, unseeing. “Do it again.”_

He freezes, fingers stuttering over the strings, suddenly immersed underwater. He tries to start again, but he can’t hear the music, can’t feel the strings, can’t _think_. Time slows to a stop, and Jisung is only dimly aware of Felix’s worried gaze as he runs away, the guitar falling backwards onto the sand.

Felix doesn’t try to chase him.

  
  
  


**_August 3, 2018. 2:03PM._ **

Neither of them try to bring up what happened until two weeks after.

Miraculously, even as they hang out together practically every day, they manage to avoid addressing it at all costs, instead choosing to frolic around Busan, going to hiking trails and arcades and karaoke rooms.

It’s funny how Felix is trying to gradually wear down Jisung’s distaste for most things musical. The boy keeps showing to him new choreography he’s made to different tracks, gushing to him about how a song he’s found recently breaks all the boundaries, coming to him with music sheets and remix ideas and asking him to do it. For his dance routines, he claims. (He’s not as slick as he likes to think he is.) 

_Felix, dancing to a Girls’ Generation song, infectious laughter ringing out as he follows the steps on the TV._

_Felix, belting his heart out to a rickroll, of all things, the iconic lyrics all too familiar as he sings, having memorized the entire thing for its meme value._

_Felix, playing Jisung a tune on the piano in the music room, so simple but so sweet, eyes closed as he feels the melody with his heart and transcribes it into reality with his fingers._

_Felix, Felix, Felix._

It’s funny how Felix is trying to gradually wear down Jisung’s distaste for most things musical. 

What’s funnier, though, is how it’s genuinely working. 

Yeah, Jisung is surprised too.

But in the end, they both know what this all leads up to, and just as Jisung had predicted, Felix pulls up in his doorway with the very same carrier case as before, hope alight in his eyes (his eyes that Jisung still doesn’t know the true colors of).

Curse his weak heart for not turning him away.

This time, they’re alone in Jisung’s room as he stares at the foreboding guitar, chest filled with unease. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Felix reaches out, careful, as Jisung picks up the instrument. “Not if you don’t want to.”

But Jisung wants to. Or, at least, he thinks so. He thinks he’s ready, and maybe that’s enough.

This time, he doesn’t try anything too difficult, nor does he attempt to improvise — all he does is play an acoustic rendition of OneRepublic’s _Counting Stars_. The English comes out a little clumsy and awkward, but the fact that his attention isn’t fully focused on his guitar seems to help, as muscle memory takes over and he plays without hearing anything except his own voice, even as he actively searches for even just an ounce of melody as he plucks and strums. 

It’s no use.

When he sees Jisung’s expression change, Felix’s eyes suddenly flare up with determination (that much Jisung can discern), and he places a hand on top of Jisung’s. “Do it again, please,” he implores. “For me.”

So he tries again. It doesn’t work the first time, but he tries a second time. And a third. And a fourth.

It does get better eventually, because on his fifth try, focused on the boy sitting across from him, Jisung starts to hear the tiniest hint of a melody from his place in the murky depths, echoing through the deep water and instilling him with a sudden surge of unknown emotion, just like a swan song.

  
  
  


**_August 14, 2018. 10:34AM._ **

Spending so much time with Felix has given Jisung a few, private, lessons of his own. 

He learns that Felix is the human personification of the sun, for one, always shining and bright and cheerful and glorious in all the ways he knows he can never be.

He learns that Felix is the most exciting person he’s ever met, hauling him to adventures everywhere he possibly can. One time, Felix had even dragged him along on a trip to Seoul. The metropolis is an amazing sight.

(Nowhere near as amazing as Felix himself.)

He learns that even the sun has his own secrets, whenever Felix shies away from certain topics, like his ambiguous friendship-slash-relationship with Hyunjin, and why he’s absent from school for exactly one day every two weeks, why the teachers don’t even bat an eye at how Felix lands himself in the medbay every other day or so, why bruises mark up his skin every so often and go away so soon.

Really, it’s fine. It’s not like Jisung doesn’t have secrets of his own. Everyone does.

The sun can keep its secrets. He’s grateful for its unending warmth anyways.

  
  
  


**_August 18, 2018. 2:25PM._ **

Four days later, it all goes wrong. 

School has barely even started when Hyunjin into Jisung and Seungmin’s composition class (one of the two classes they share), completely winded and white as a sheet. “Seonsaeng-nim, can I borrow Han Jisung and Kim Seungmin for a few minutes?”

As soon as their (very confused) teacher lets them go, Jisung and Seungmin both pounce on Hyunjin. “What the fuck happened?”

“You’ll see,” is the clipped response, smeared with fear at the edges.

When they reach the ground floor, Hyunjin suddenly bursts into a sprint, gesturing for Jisung and Seungmin to follow. After shooting confused glances at each other, they do, ending up in the infirmary, where …

“Fuck,” breathes Seungmin, stopping in his tracks. Jisung doesn’t think he can articulate the turmoil boiling under his skin any clearer.

All Jisung can hear is the blood rushing past in his ears. On the bed lies Felix, pale and unconscious, chest rising and falling weakly under the blanket. The school nurse takes a glance at the three students and resumes her work, but not before telling them that she’s already called an ambulance for Felix with a sympathetic smile.

“He collapsed in dance class,” Hyunjin says, face stricken. “I don’t know what’s wrong. Our teacher let me bring him here, and I called you guys down because he said I should tell everyone else Felix is friends with — ”

Just then, the wail of a siren arrives just outside the school gates, the EMTs rush in to carry Felix off, and the trio are left in the infirmary together with a growing sense of dread.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 2:48PM._ **

_Autumn in Korea isn’t supposed to be wet, it’s supposed to have good weather,_ Jisung gripes as he steps out of the café with his umbrella in hand. The rain has no business being this heavy in early September. Really, fuck climate change.

At the very least, he can appreciate the refreshing scent of nature in the air, permeated by the saltiness of the sea. Busan’s beaches are one of the things the residents are the proudest of, and it’s deserved, honestly (though, being a former resident himself, Jisung may be a little biased). It also helps that the school isn’t situated too far from the ocean.

Finally going back to the bus stop, Jisung gives the café, school, and sweet shop a final sweeping gaze, closing his eyes to wait for the echoes to pass by. He’s long since let go of his school days by now; though there remain lessons he’ll never forget, memories he’ll always cherish, he knows he’s moved past that particularly tumultuous section of his life, onto a new chapter, but it doesn’t hurt to revisit old times anyways. Besides, he’d arrived here with a destination in mind.

  
  
  


**_August 20, 2018. 7:11PM._ **

_The question pops out of nowhere. Having just finished their homework together (perks of practically being neighbors), the two boys are now chatting about anything and everything, as they tend to do when they’re bored. It’s nice, usually._

_“Do u think you’ll ever be able to play the guitar properly again?”_

_Jisung pauses for a second, thinking through his answer before replying. “Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe when my guitar doesn’t remind me of my dad anymore.”_

_He feels the couch pillows shift as Felix turns to look at him. “You’ve never actually told me why you quit, you know.”_

_“You don’t need to know.”_

_“But I want to,” comes the reply, softly. Too softly, because now Jisung’s heart has been sent into overdrive. He’s been struggling enough with these emotions that seem to get the better of him whenever he looks at the silver-haired boy, and no, Jisung isn’t stupid enough to not recognize it as a crush, but the thing is, he doesn’t know what to do with this information._

_Like it’s set on betraying him, Jisung’s mouth opens and starts to speak. “It’s not- it’s not even that bad, really, I’m sure a lot of people go through so much worse, but my dad … he was a guitarist. Got into a fire accident at thirty something, burned his hands, couldn’t play anymore._

_“So when I was born and I showed interest in the guitar, naturally, he was delighted. Who wouldn’t be, in his shoes_ _?” Jisung doesn’t look at Felix. Because of nervousness? Irrationality? He doesn’t know. “Then he started to train me. Machine perfection, that’s what he wanted. I guess it’s also why I hate ‘perfect’ music now. He wasn’t even abusive or anything,” Jisung says quietly. “He just … wanted the best for me. I understand that. But I can’t help but get the feeling he had always been trying to live vicariously through me.”_

_The weight on the couch shifts again, and Jisung raises his gaze to see Felix nod slowly. “He tainted the guitar for you. That’s why you can’t play it anymore.”_

_Jisung shakes his head. “Not really because of that. When he got diagnosed with cancer — ” he doesn’t notice how Felix pales at his words — “I played so much, in concerts, showcases, everything. Thought it would maybe cure him. Stupid, right?” A sardonic smile finds its way up his face. “Nah. Even his attitude just got worse after the diagnosis, and I started to genuinely loathe it. It was only after he died that this mental block showed up._

_“Now I can’t hear the music from the guitar even if I try. In part, I guess it’s my brain trying to protect itself from everything that reminds me of him, or maybe it’s because it reminds me that I could never have saved him.”_

_“Hmm,” comes a noncommittal hum from Felix. “What if I asked you to play? For me? Not for your dad. What if I asked you to associate the guitar with … I don’t know, maybe like … me? Instead?”_

_“I — ” Jisung’s head snaps up. Will it work? “I can try.”_

But he hasn’t tried. Not until now, at least, when he’s sitting on a stool next to Felix’s hospital bed, hefting his old guitar up and testing out the steel strings. The room is empty save for the two of them; Felix had been given a private ward, and only one visitor is allowed inside at all times.

_“What if I asked you to associate the guitar with me instead?”_

So that’s what Jisung does. He imagines Felix dancing to his song, he imagines _them_ , dancing together under the moonlight, under this softly-strummed song. Jisung isn’t a child anymore, he knows it won’t cure Felix; so he dedicates his music to him instead. 

The melody is louder this time — he can feel it in his bones, the same way Felix says he feels the music when he dances. And with this small yet revolutionary revelation, Jisung spends the rest of his visiting time playing for Felix, until his fingers go numb, watching as the heart monitor beeps with the beat, following along as well as any meticulously arranged percussion track ever could. And maybe that’s all he can do. Maybe that’s enough.

  
  
  


**_August 21, 2018. 4:09PM._ **

One day later, Felix is discharged from the hospital.

He brings home a series of flower bouquets, get-well-soon cards attached to all of them, and tosses them away. It’s funny how Jisung’s mother isn’t even surprised anymore when the boy rushes right inside Jisung’s room as soon as he gets home, overly used to their shenanigans. 

“Have you ever tried pressing flowers before?” Felix’s eyes are sparkling, no longer the dull dark yellow that they had been when he’d first woken up. “Let’s choose the prettiest ones and do that!”

Jisung complies, picking out a daisy from one of the smaller bouquets. Felix seems confused as to why he picked something simple, but the answer is really just as simple as the flower itself.

“It looks nice,” Jisung says, punctuating his words with a shrug. “And I like that it’s so … unassuming, but it’s pretty anyway. Also, it’s not an ugly yellow, and my mom says I can actually see all of its colors. Apart from the stem, at least.”

Seemingly lost in thought, Felix nods. “That’s a really cool way of looking at it, actually. My favorite is this one.” He picks a blue flower from one of the other bouquets, and Jisung starts to laugh. “Really? You talk about simplicity when your favorite is this one? It’s so much simpler than mine!”

The boy swats at him. “Shut up, it’s ‘cause I like the meaning.”

Surprised, Jisung lets out a whistle. “You know flower meanings?”

Felix grins bashfully. “Only a little. Really, all it takes is some searching on Naver or Google.”

“True,” concedes Jisung. “What do your flowers mean, then?”

“They’re forget-me-nots,” Felix says, handing his flower to Jisung. “They mean exactly what their name suggests: ‘don’t forget me’. Pretty simple, but I guess I kinda relate to that, you know? When I’m gone — whether it’s in days, or months, or decades — I don’t want people to forget me. I want to leave my mark here, as cheesy as it sounds. Oh, I guess they also mean ‘true love’, too,” he adds as an afterthought, “but that bit isn’t important. These are blue, by the way, so you’re probably seeing their real colors right now.”

At that, Jisung turns over the flower he’s holding in fascination, holding it up to the light to study it better. “Really? What do daisies mean, then?”

“Yeah, about that … ” Felix winces. “You might not want to know.”

  
  
  


**_September 1, 2018. 2:47PM._ **

To Jisung and Seungmin’s abject delight, the entire composition class gets to skip a whole period because the teacher is absent today for a relative’s wedding, or something along those lines. Since no substitute teachers are available today, apparently, they’re going to join the dance course students instead. Of course, the two of them are overjoyed.

“Seungmin? Felix?” Hyunjin’s face practically lights up when he sees them, and he calls Felix over from his spot on the corner, where he’d been doing stretches. “Is your teacher absent or something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Jisung says with a grin, and gives him a high five.

The dance instructor calls all the students over and explains that, because half the students currently present are completely unable to dance (well, in the way that the dance majors can, at the very least), they’ll be doing something easier.

Ballroom dancing. 

Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, because their small squad could’ve just paired off with one another, no problem. It doesn’t even matter who’s with who. Unfortunately for them, the teacher is adamant on drawing lots for partners, _and_ making boy-girl pairs only, which means all four of them are separated, to their dismay. (To be fair, Hyunjin and Felix had seemed pretty chill. They must’ve been used to it by now. On the other hand, Jisung and Seungmin had exchanged looks of horror, neither of them willing to partner up with a random person they probably don’t even know.)

What this results in is Jisung being assigned to a random girl from the dance majors’ class who then proceeds to take the lead, allowing him to just stand there and follow. He’s not even paying attention to the class, not really; he keeps glancing to the side, where Felix is twirling around with one of the girls from composition. Weirdly enough, though Jisung is perfectly aware of his burgeoning crush on the other boy, he doesn’t feel jealousy at all.

No, he’s too focused on Felix for that. His laughter, the sound muffled beneath the booming volume of the speakers playing Chopin’s _Minute Waltz_. His eyes, sparkling with glee as he leads his partner across the room. His movements, smooth and graceful and elegant, swaying along to the rhythm, immersing him in song.

Yeah. Jisung is whipped — there’s no two ways to go about it.

  
  
  


**_September 14th, 2018. 11:34PM._ **

Both of them are aware that this could be the last birthday Felix ever gets to celebrate.

Barely one and a half weeks ago, he’d collapsed again. This time, he’d had to be hospitalized for a week. Though Jisung hadn’t known the exact details of what Felix is going through (and he still doesn’t know, honestly), he can feel that their time is running out.

Somehow, even knowing that, he still can’t muster up the courage to confess. Or perhaps it’s _because_ he knows that — if he _had_ confessed, and Felix had rejected him, it would hurt so much more knowing that he’d given the other boy a source of guilt right before the end of his days. Especially since he still doesn’t know if Felix still has a crush on Hyunjin or not.

Jisung’s birthday celebration yesterday hadn’t been much. He’d brought a small cake to school, and their quartet of friends had wolfed it down together within two minutes. He likes that kind of celebration; a quiet affair with only his closest friends, personally, is perfect for him. That’s why he’s bringing Felix to the beach, where he had set up a small fort of sorts just a few hours ago. He can only hope that Felix likes it.

“We’re here.” Jisung nudges Felix, and he uncovers his eyes and gasps at the scene. A pile of wooden crates have been stacked around an air mattress, which Jisung has decorated with pillows and cushions and plushies of all kinds. “It’s not much,” the guitarist admits, “but … ”

“Are you kidding?” Felix turns towards him with shining eyes. “I love it! Thank you, thank you so much.”

“That’s not the entire surprise, actually,” Jisung admits as he reaches into one of the crates ( _god_ please let this be the right one, he doesn’t want to embarrass himself). To his relief, his hand closes around smooth wood and he pulls out a guitar, his _own_ guitar which he hasn’t played in years. (He’d made sure to change the strings right before, though, so he wouldn’t run the risk of any of them being overly out of tune or breaking.)

When Felix’s jaw drops and he moves forward to look, the tension leaves Jisung’s shoulders. He had no idea how nervous he’d been about all this.

“So, uh.” He coughs. “What do you want me to play?”

“Anything. I can’t believe you’re doing this for me,” Felix says, eyes widening. “I thought you couldn’t play — ”

Jisung shakes his head. “I played for you, once, when you first fainted. In your ward.”

“Oh.”

They settle down, sand under their toes and waves lapping at their feet as they stare up into the starry night sky, and Jisung starts to strum, singing along to _This is Home_ by Cavetown as Felix nods along to the beat. The clouds slowly move over the moon, streaking the dark blue in slighter lighter greys as Jisung thrums into the night. It’s not a performance; there’s no one there to criticize Jisung’s playing, no one there to talk about vocal techniques and musicality; it’s just the two of them, watching as the night changes. 

An alarm comes from Jisung’s phone. _September 15, 12:00AM._

He sets the guitar down gently on the mattress and offers a hand to Felix, mirroring that time they had both fallen into the bushes from his motorized bike on the way home from the sweet shop. “C’mon.”

Tugging on Felix’s arm, Jisung runs into the water, and the boy behind him doubles over in laughter as the waves crash into his skin. A bright idea strikes Jisung all of a sudden, and he pushes Felix into the ocean, the boy’s expression changing into shock as he falls on his butt. Felix stands up and retaliates by pushing _him_ into the waves, and soon they’re engaged in an all-out war, splashing water at each other and trying their best to dunk each other.

Forty minutes later, they’re back onshore, both of them lying on their backs and chewing on the mochi Jisung had brought along.

“You know,” Felix says suddenly, “they give us mochi for treats at the hospital. That’s why I like them so much. Kinda like a little bit of sweetness among all this bitterness, I guess.”

“Wait, so you’ve been in the hospital more than that?”

“Yeah, since I was a kid.”

They lapse back into a comfortable silence after that. Jisung gazes sideways at Felix, when he notices something peculiar — a smattering or darker spots dotting his pale skin. “Lix, are those freckles?”

Felix turns his head so abruptly Jisung is afraid he’ll accidentally snap his neck. “No, of course not,” he laughs nervously, attempting to cover his face with plushies. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh my god,” gasps Jisung. “They _are_.”

“Don’t look, please,” Felix begs, squeezing his eyes shut. “They’re so ugly.”

Jisung gives a hum. “Okay. Well, I like them, at least. They’re pretty on you. Like stars,” he adds when Felix stares at him in astonishment.

“Hmm,” is all the other boy can say.

The next Monday, Felix goes to school barefaced.

He looks happier.

  
  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 3:07PM._ **

The sign outside the florist’s reads ‘Welcome’.

Jisung has never been here before. The only reason he knows of this place, even, is thanks to Naver search. 

Eighteen minutes later, he walks out with a bouquet of beautiful azure blue forget-me-nots, the type Felix had first shown him.

So, with everything ready, he calls a cab and prepares to go.

  
  
  


**_September 29, 2018. 9:32AM._ **

It’s the end-of-month showcase, and Felix is nowhere to be found.

This time, Jisung had signed up to be a stagehand, wanting to see him dance as close to the stage as he can, because the front rows will all be filled up by parents. None of that, though, will matter if Felix isn’t here.

Even Park seonsaeng-nim is anxious out of her mind. Being the teacher in charge of the end-of-month showcases, suddenly losing a performer is a heavy blow.

“I just need someone to replace him right now, anyone, literally anyone,” she’s babbling at one of the teachers backstage, almost hysterical. “He was admitted to the hospital again literally an hour ago! How am I supposed to find a decent performer ready for the stage right now? How?”

Jisung freezes at the thought of Felix getting sick _again_ , but hesitates and makes a split-second decision before rounding the corner. “Uh, Park seonsaeng-nim, I might be able to do it if I have a guitar.”

The woman’s eyes lock onto Jisung, almost scary in her determination, and nods when she recognizes him as the famed ‘guitar prodigy’. “SOMEONE!” she yells, marching out of her spot and startling one of the poor second-year student volunteer makeup artists. “SOMEONE GET THIS KID A GUITAR!”

  
  
  


**_September 29, 2018. 1:19PM._ **

The lights are blinding.

Surrounded by the icy cold of the stage, heart hammering in his chest, seventeen-year-old Han Jisung shakily brings his fingers to press on the guitar strings and strums once.

Everything is wobbly. Muted. He can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything.

He tries again.

The lights are blinding.

Suddenly, the teenager is aware of the whispers from the audience, the worried atmosphere that’s suddenly fallen upon the stage.

Everything is wobbly. Muted. He can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything.

He tries again.

The lights are blinding.

The static in his ears hasn’t stopped. It holds him in an ironlike grip, blankets him in fear, in dread.

Everything is wobbly. Muted. He can’t hear anything. Can’t see anything.

He tries again.

And again.

And again and again and again and again and again and again and —

And he doesn’t stop, because through some sort of miracle, _he can see Felix in the audience_.

He smiles at him, though his outline seems to flicker a little, and a sudden warmth, golden and radiant, envelopes Jisung’s body.

“Come on,” it seems to whisper. “You can do it.”

Jisung almost cries.

Jisung doesn’t cry.

So he plays on, and on and on and on, to his heart’s content. The audience is hushed with awe, but he doesn’t even notice. He doesn’t _need_ to, because the only ones who matter are Seungmin. And Hyunjin. 

And Felix.

He pours every inch of emotion he has in his being into the melody, sings so much he thinks his throat might be fucked for the next month, but he doesn’t care. All that matters is that he plays on, because somehow he knows that this is the last time he will ever be able to play for him.

So he dedicates the song completely to Lee Felix; his own version of a confession and an apology in itself.

_I’m sorry, Felix. I was such a coward._

  
  
  


**_September 29, 2018. 2:??PM_ **

Time is an illusion as Jisung kneels by Felix’s side, his eyelids fluttering open when he hears Jisung coming, and sends him a tired grin.

“Hey,” he says, voice hardly above a whisper. His liveliness has gone, replaced by a sense of defeated exhaustion. Jisung can’t bring himself to say anything. If he tries, his voice will come out wavery. Most likely, he won’t be able to hold back the sobs.

“Don’t cry, Sung,” Felix says gently. “I’m fine. I’ll haunt you in the afterlife, alright?”

Jisung just nods. He can’t speak — his throat is clogged up. He just sits there, holding Felix’s hand as the younger continues talking to him one-sidedly, voice growing weaker every second.

It’s so _final_.

An hour later, Felix passes away. Jisung can pinpoint the exact second the light goes out of his eyes, the exact second Felix’s hand goes limp and falls out of his grasp. The doctors say he’s at peace, that he hadn’t felt any pain in dying.

Jisung wonders if he’s telling the truth about haunting him in the afterlife, and the corners of his lips curl up in a morbid smile. It’s exactly the type of thing the stubborn bastard would do. He watches, along with Felix’s sobbing parents, as the doctors close his eyes, and — _oh_.

He’ll never know how green his eyes were.

  
  


**_September 8, 2020. 4:55PM._ **

Cemeteries used to scare Jisung.

To him, they had been the source of horror stories: zombies, spiders, demons. (Yeah, Jisung had been a little bit of a scaredy cat when he was younger.)

He’s not scared of them anymore.

Kneeling down in respect, he carefully places the bouquet and box of mochi on Felix’s grave and whispers a prayer. He brings out his guitar, too, and starts to sing the song he’d sung during that showcase, and pours every ounce of nostalgia and memory into it. The song had been completely improvised, yet it’s just as fresh in his mind as it had been two years ago.

“Happy early birthday, Felix,” he says at the end, voice soft. “I miss you so much.”

And with that, he leaves, the wind whistling behind him. The rain’s stopped, almost like it knows to not disturb the moment, and the sun shines from behind the clouds, dappling the ground — and Jisung — in golden light.

Maybe Felix is watching over him, a personal guardian angel. Maybe Felix is really fulfilling his promise to haunt him, ridiculous as the thought is. 

Jisung shields his eyes and looks up at the sky. He smiles.

The sun seems to smile back.

  
  
  


**_October 3, 2018. 5:26PM._ **

The funeral is open to only a few of Felix’s friends and relatives. Seungmin and Hyunjin are both there, of course, and knowing Jisung had been closer to Felix than most, Seungmin puts a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder. His tombstone is just one among thousands of others, made of simple gray stone, but to Jisung, it feels more important than all the others combined.

Felix’s little brother — Jeongin, Jisung thinks he’s called — pats him on the back, hardly able to contain tears himself, and hands Jisung the Lee family’s guitar that Felix had always lent to him, as well as a letter. He doesn’t open it until he gets home, where he unfolds it and starts to cry. He doesn’t delete Felix’s contact. He doesn’t unfollow Felix on social media. He doesn’t throw away the guitar, even when he gets gifted a brand new, top-tier one.

Everyone has their ways of remembering the ones they love.

—

_Dear Han Jisung,_

_It feels weird writing a letter to someone you were just with …_

_You’re the worst._

_Indecisive. Gullible. Twit._

_The first time I ever saw you, I was 7 years old. It was at a family rock concert my mom had brought me to. This awkward, clumsy kid came onto the stage and accidentally hit the mic stand with his butt. It was too funny. He was holding a guitar that was way too big for him and the moment he played that first note, I was drawn in._

_The sound was beautiful, like a 24-colour palette. The melodies danced._

_The girl next to me started crying. I wasn’t expecting that at all._

_And even so, you gave up the guitar. Gave up music, even though it totally changed other people’s lives. You’re the worst. Indecisive. Gullible. Twit._

_When I found out we were in the same middle school, I was ecstatic. But how would I ever come to talk to you? Maybe I’d hang out at the lunch concession. Instead, I just watched you from afar._

_I mean, after all. You all seemed to get along so well._

_There wasn’t really any space in there for someone like me._

_When I was a kid, I had to have an operation and I started having to be at the hospital for regular check-ups. In the first year of middle school, I collapsed and I was admitted over and over. With every visit, I was there for longer and longer. Really, I didn’t get to class much in middle school, I spent more time at the hospital. And I knew something was wrong with my body._

_One night, I saw my parents crying in the waiting room and I knew that my time was running out._

_That’s when I ran away._

_I didn’t want to bring my regrets with me to heaven, so I stopped holding myself back from doing the things I always wanted to do._

_I wasn’t scared to dye my hair anymore._

_I ate what I wanted instead of always worrying about my weight._

_I took the choreographies, the music, with all its high and mighty directives, and danced to it the way I wanted._

_And then I told a lie. Just one._

_I lied and said that I, Lee Felix, liked Hwang Hyunjin._

_And that lie brought you to me._

_Please apologize to Hyunjin for me … though I’m sure he’s forgotten about my ‘crush’ by now, I think I need someone more wholehearted and earnest than him. I think we’d be fine as friends though._

_And please apologize to Seungmin for me too. I want for there to be no hard feelings. And there was one thing I could never ask of him, to ask him directly to introduce the two of us._

_I don’t think he would’ve had an answer for me._

_After all, he had a crush on you._

_We all knew that._

_I think the only people who didn’t know were you and him._

_That underhanded lie brought me to you didn’t work out the way I had imagined._

_It was darker._

_And meaner._

_And denser._

_And more stubborn._

_And more perverted._

_And softer._

_And more masculine._

_And sweet._

_Remember how we had a water fight on my birthday? It was so cool and refreshing. You, playing the guitar for me in your bedroom, even though you still couldn’t hear the notes. That was so sweet. When we talked about flowers, and you said your favorite was the daisy. I’ll tell you what it means now. ‘Innocence and purity’ … and also childbirth, motherhood, and new beginnings._

_In retrospect, it would’ve been funny to see your reaction. Too late now, huh?_

_I do hope you get your new beginning, though._

_It’s strange to be a dancer, but then to have your heart so filled by something that comes from off-stage. They’re unforgettable scenes to me, but they’re such little things. It’s weird, isn’t it?_

_I hope you’ll be okay. I know that’s a lot to ask ... death isn’t something you can just forget. No matter how hard you try. Of course, you would know that better than anyone, wouldn’t you? I just hope that you can find happiness even if I’m not there with you._

_To be honest, I’m just happy you’re here with me now._

_What do you think?_

_Do you think I made it into anyone’s heart like that?_

_I wonder if I made it into yours._

_I wonder if you’ll still remember me._

_If you forget me, I’ll just come back and ..._

_No, I don’t want to start over._

_Please don’t forget me._

_Promise me you won’t forget me._

_I’m glad it was you._

_I hope this reaches you, Han Jisung._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I’m sorry we couldn’t eat all the mochi._

_I’m sorry I hit you so much._

_I’m sorry I was so selfish._

_I’m so, so, so, so sorry._

_Thank you for being my best friend._

_Thank you for being the person I love._

_Thank you for everything._

_Signed,_

_Lee Felix_

_P.S. Don’t lose hope, hey? It’ll be okay._

—

And one day, it would be.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by : your lie in april


End file.
